And does not all this
seem like signs of mental derangement?
seem like signs of mental derangement?
Warner - World's Best Literature - v08 - Dah to Dra
The old man wrangled with her, raised
an uproar, snatched from her as many books as possible, stuffed
all his pockets with them, thrust them into his hat and wherever
he could, carried them about with him all the three days which
preceded the funeral, and did not even part with them when the
time came to go to the church. During all those days he was
like a man stunned, who has lost his memory, and he kept fuss-
ing about near the coffin with a certain strange anxiety; now he
adjusted the paper band upon the dead man's brow, now he lighted
and snuffed the candles. It was evident that he could not fix
his thoughts in orderly manner on anything. Neither my mother
nor Anna Feodorovna went to the funeral services in the church.
My mother was ill, but Anna Feodorovna quarreled with old
Pokrovsky just as she was all ready to start, and so stayed away.
The old man and I were the only persons present. A sort of
fear came over me during the services-like the presentiment
of something which was about to happen. I could hardly stand
out the ceremony in church. At last they put the lid on the
coffin and nailed it down, placed it on the cart and drove away.
I accompanied it only to the end of the street. The truckman
drove at a trot. The old man ran after the cart, weeping aloud;
the sound of his crying was broken and shaken by his running.
The poor man lost his hat and did not stop to pick it up. His
head was wet with the rain; the sleet lashed and cut his face.
The old man did not appear to feel the bad weather, but ran
weeping from one side of the cart to the other. The skirts of
his shabby old coat waved in the wind like wings.
Books pro-
truded from every one of his pockets; in his hands was a huge
book, which he held tightly clutched. The passers-by removed
their hats and made the sign of the cross. Some halted and
stared in amazement at the poor old man. Every moment the
books kept falling out of his pockets into the mud. People
stopped him, and pointed out his losses to him; he picked them
up, and set out again in pursuit of the coffin. At the corner of
the street an old beggar woman joined herself to him to escort
the coffin. At last the cart turned the corner, and disappeared
from my eyes.
I went home. I flung myself, in dreadful grief,
on my mother's bosom.
## p. 4795 (#591) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4795
LETTER FROM MAKAR DYEVUSHKIN TO VARVARA ALEXIEVNA DOBROS-
YELOFF
――――
My dear Varvara Alexievna!
I am quite beside myself as I write this. I am utterly upset
by a most terrible occurrence. My head is whirling. I feel as
though everything were turning in dizzy circles round about me.
Ah, my dearest, what a thing I have to tell you now! We had
not even a presentiment of such a thing. No, I don't believe
that I did not have a presentiment I foresaw it all. My heart
forewarned me of this whole thing! I even dreamed of some-
thing like it not long ago.
This is what has happened! I will relate it to you without
attempting fine style, and as the Lord shall put it into my soul.
I went to the office to-day. When I arrived, I sat down and
began to write. But you must know, my dear, that I wrote yes-
terday also. Well, yesterday Timofei Ivan'itch came to me, and
was pleased to give me a personal order. "Here's a document
that is much needed," says he, "and we're in a hurry for it.
Copy it, Makar Alexievitch," says he, "as quickly and as neatly
and carefully as possible: it must be handed in for signature to-
day. " I must explain to you, my angel, that I was not quite
myself yesterday, and didn't wish to look at anything; such sad-
ness and depression had fallen upon me! My heart was cold, my
mind was dark; you filled all my memory, and incessantly, my
poor darling. Well, so I set to work on the copy; I wrote clearly
and well, only, I don't know exactly how to describe it to you,
whether the Evil One himself tangled me up, or whether it was
decreed by some mysterious fate, or simply whether it was bound
to happen so, but I omitted a whole line, and the sense was utterly
ruined. The Lord only knows what sense there was-simply
none whatever. They were late with the papers yesterday, so
they only gave this document to his Excellency for signature this
morning. To-day I presented myself at the usual hour, as though
nothing at all were the matter, and set myself down alongside
Emelyan Ivanovitch.
―――
SEPTEMBER 9TH.
I must tell you, my dear, that lately I have become twice as
shamefaced as before, and more mortified. Of late I have ceased
to look at any one. As soon as any one's chair squeaks, I am
more dead than alive.
So to-day I crept in, slipped humbly into
## p. 4796 (#592) ###########################################
4796
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOÉVSKY
my seat, and sat there all doubled up, so that Efim Akimovitch
(he's the greatest tease in the world) remarked in such a way
that all could hear him, "Why do you sit so like a y-y-y, Makar
Alexievitch ? " Then he made such a grimace that everybody
round him and me split with laughter, and of course at my
expense. They kept it up interminably! I drooped my ears and
screwed up my eyes, and sat there motionless.
That's my way;
they stop the quicker. All at once I heard a noise, a running
and a tumult; I heard - did my ears deceive me? They were
calling for me, demanding me, summoning Dyevushkin. My
heart quivered in my breast, and I didn't know myself what I
feared, for nothing of the sort had ever happened to me in the
whole course of my life. I was rooted to my chair, as though
nothing had occurred, as though it were not I. But then they be-
gan again, nearer at hand, and nearer still. And here they were,
right in my very ear: "Dyevushkin! Dyevushkin! " they called;
"where's Dyevushkin? " I raise my eyes, and there before me
stands Evstafiy Ivanovitch; he says:-"Makar Alexievitch, hasten
to his Excellency as quickly as possible! You've made a nice
mess with that document! "
――
That was all he said, but it was enough, wasn't it, my dear,
- quite enough to say? I turned livid, and grew as cold as
ice, and lost my senses; I started, and I simply didn't know
whether I was alive or dead as I went. They led me through
one room, and through another room, and through a third room,
to the private office, and I presented myself! Positively, I can-
not give you any account of what I was thinking about.
I saw
his Excellency standing there, with all of them around him. It
appears that I did not make my salute; I forgot it completely.
I was so scared that my lips trembled and my legs shook. And
there was sufficient cause, my dear. In the first place, I was
ashamed of myself; I glanced to the right, at a mirror, and what
I beheld therein was enough to drive any man out of his senses.
And in the second place, I have always behaved as though there
were no place for me in the world. So that it is not likely that
his Excellency was even aware of my existence.
It is possible
that he may have heard it cursorily mentioned that there was a
person named Dyevushkin in the department, but he had never
come into any closer relations.
He began angrily, "What's the meaning of this, sir? What
are you staring at? Here's an important paper, needed in haste,
## p. 4797 (#593) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4797
and you go and spoil it. And how did you come to permit such
a thing? " Here his Excellency turned on Evstafiy Ivanovitch.
I only listen, and the sounds of the words reach me: "It's gross
carelessness. Heedlessness! You'll get yourself into trouble! "
I tried to open my mouth for some purpose or other. I seemed
to want to ask forgiveness, but I couldn't; to run away, but I
didn't dare to make the attempt: and then- then, my dearest,
something so dreadful happened that I can hardly hold my pen
even now for the shame of it. My button-deuce take it-my
button, which was hanging by a thread, suddenly broke loose,
jumped off, skipped along (evidently I had struck it by accident),
clattered and rolled away, the cursed thing, straight to his Excel-
lency's feet, and that in the midst of universal silence. And
that was the whole of my justification, all my excuse, all my
answer, everything which I was preparing to say to his Excel-
lency!
The results were terrible! His Excellency immediately di-
rected his attention to my figure and my costume. I remembered
what I had seen in the mirror; I flew to catch the button! A
fit of madness descended upon me! I bent down and tried to
grasp the button, but it rolled and twisted, and I couldn't get
hold of it, in short, and I also distinguished myself in the matter
of dexterity. Then I felt my last strength fail me, and knew
that all, all was lost! My whole reputation was lost, the whole
man ruined! And then, without rhyme or reason, Teresa and
Faldoni began to ring in both my ears. At last I succeeded in
seizing the button, rose upright, drew myself up in proper salute,
but like a fool, and stood calmly there with my hands lined
down on the seams of my trousers! No, I didn't, though. 1
began to try to fit the button on the broken thread, just as
though it would stick fast by that means; and moreover, I began
to smile and went on smiling.
At first his Excellency turned away; then he scrutinized me
again, and I heard him say to Evstafiy Ivanovitch:-"How's this?
See what a condition he is in! What a looking man! What's
the matter with him? " Ah, my own dearest, think of that—
"What a looking man! " and "What's the matter with him!
"He has distinguished himself! " I heard Evstafiy say; "he has
no bad marks, no bad marks on any score, and his conduct
is exemplary; his salary is adequate, in accordance with the
rates. " "Well then, give him some sort of assistance," says his
>>>
## p. 4798 (#594) ###########################################
4798
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
Excellency; "make him an advance on his salary. "-"But he has
had it, he has taken it already, for ever so long in advance.
Probably circumstances have compelled him to do so; but his
conduct is good, and he has received no reprimands, he has never
been rebuked. " My dear little angel, I turned hot and burned
as though in the fires of the bad place! I was on the point of
fainting. "Well," says his Excellency in a loud voice, “the doc-
ument must be copied again as quickly as possible; come here,
Dyevushkin, make a fresh copy without errors; and listen to
me;" here his Excellency turned to the others and gave them
divers orders, and sent them all away. As soon as they were
all gone, his Excellency hastily took out his pocket-book, and
from it drew a hundred-ruble bank-note. "Here," said he, "this
is all I can afford, and I am happy to help to that extent;
reckon it as you please, take it,”—and he thrust it into my hand.
I trembled, my angel, my whole soul was in a flutter; I didn't
know what was the matter with me; I tried to catch his hand
and kiss it. But he turned very red in the face, my darling,
and—I am not deviating from the truth by so much as a hair's-
breadth - he took my unworthy hand, and shook it, indeed he
did; he took it and shook it as though it were of equal rank
with his own, as though it belonged to a General like himself.
"Go," says he; "I am glad to do what I can. Make no mis-
takes, but now do it as well as you can. "
Now, my dear, this is what I have decided: I beg you and
Feodor and if I had children I would lay my commands upon
them to pray to God for him; though they should not pray for
their own father, that they should pray daily and forever, for his
Excellency! One thing more I will say, my dearest, and I say
it solemnly, heed me well, my dear, I swear that, no matter
in what degree I may be reduced to spiritual anguish in the
cruel days of our adversity, as I look on you and your poverty,
on myself, on my humiliation and incapacity,-in spite of all
this, I swear to you that the hundred rubles are not so precious
to me as the fact that his Excellency himself deigned to press
my unworthy hand, the hand of a straw, a drunkard! Thereby
he restored my self-respect. By that deed he brought to life
again my spirit, he made my existence sweeter forevermore, and
I am firmly convinced that, however sinful I may be in the
sight of the Almighty, yet my prayer for the happiness and
prosperity of his Excellency will reach his throne!
――――――
## p. 4799 (#595) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4799
My dearest, I am at present in the most terrible state of
spiritual prostration, in a horribly overwrought condition. My
heart beats as though it would burst out of my breast, and I
seem to be weak all over. I send you forty-five rubles, paper
money. I shall give twenty rubles to my landlady, and keep
thirty-five for myself; with twenty I will get proper clothes, and
the other fifteen will go for my living expenses. But just now
all the impressions of this morning have shaken my whole being
to the foundations. I am going to lie down for a bit. Never-
theless, I am calm, perfectly calm. Only, my soul aches, and
down there, in the depths, my soul is trembling and throbbing
and quivering. I shall go to see you; but just now I am simply
intoxicated with all these emotions. God sees all, my dearest,
my own darling, my precious one.
Your worthy friend,
MAKAR DYEVUSHKIN.
Translation of Isabel F. Hapgood.
THE BIBLE READING
From Crime and Punishment'
R
ASKOLNIKOFF Went straight to the water-side, where Sonia was
living. The three-storied house was an old building, painted
green.
The young man had some difficulty in finding the
ornik, and got from him vague information about the quarters
of the tailor Kapernasumoff. After having discovered in a corner
of the yard the foot of a steep and gloomy staircase, he ascended
to the second floor, and followed the gallery facing the court-yard.
Whilst groping in the dark, and asking himself how Kapernas-
umoff's lodgings could be reached, a door opened close to him;
he seized it mechanically.
"Who is there? " asked a timid female voice.
"It is I. I am coming to see you," replied Raskolnikoff, on
entering a small ante-room. There on a wretched table stood a
candle, fixed in a candlestick of twisted metal.
"Is that you? Good heavens! " feebly replied Sonia, who
seemed not to have strength enough to move from the spot.
"Where do you live? Is it here? " And Raskolnikoff passed
quickly into the room, trying not to look the girl in the face.
## p. 4800 (#596) ###########################################
4800
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
A moment afterwards Sonia rejoined him with the candle, and
remained stock still before him, a prey to an indescribable agita-
tion. This unexpected visit had upset her-nay, even frightened
her. All of a sudden her pale face colored up, and tears came
into her eyes.
She experienced extreme confusion, united with a
certain gentle feeling. Raskolnikoff turned aside with a rapid
movement and sat down on a chair, close to the table. In the
twinkling of an eye he took stock of everything in the room.
This room was large, with a very low ceiling, and was the
only one let out by the Kapernasumoffs; in the wall, on the left-
hand side, was a door giving access to theirs. On the opposite
side, in the wall on the right, there was another door, which was
always locked. That was another lodging, having another num-
ber. Sonia's room was more like an out-house, of irregular rec-
tangular shape, which gave it an uncommon character. The wall,
with its three windows facing the canal, cut it obliquely, forming
thus an extremely acute angle, in the back portion of which noth-
ing could be seen, considering the feeble light of the candle.
On the other hand, the other angle was an extremely obtuse one.
This large room contained scarcely any furniture. In the right-
hand corner was the bed; between the bed and the door, a chair;
on the same side, facing the door of the next set, stood a deal
table, covered with a blue cloth; close to the table were two rush
chairs. Against the opposite wall, near the acute angle, was
placed a small chest of drawers of unvarnished wood, which
seemed out of place in this vacant spot. This was the whole of
the furniture. The yellowish and worn paper had everywhere
assumed a darkish color, probably the effect of the damp and
coal smoke. Everything in the place denoted poverty. Even the
bed had no curtains. Sonia silently considered the visitor, who
examined her room so attentively and so unceremoniously.
"Her lot is fixed," thought he,-"a watery grave, the mad-
house, or a brutish existence! " This latter contingency was
especially repellent to him, but skeptic as he was, he could not
help believing it a possibility. "Is it possible that such is really
the case? " he asked himself. "Is it possible that this creature,
who still retains a pure mind, should end by becoming deliber-
ately mire-like ? Has she not already become familiar with it,
and if up to the present she has been able to bear with such a
## p. 4801 (#597) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4801
life, has it not been so because vice has already lost its hideous-
ness in her eyes? Impossible again! " cried he, on his part, in
the same way as Sonia had cried a moment ago. "No, that
which up to the present has prevented her from throwing her-
self into the canal has been the fear of sin and its punishment.
May she not be mad after all? Who says she is not so? Is
she in full possession of all her faculties? Is it possible to
speak as she does? Do people of sound judgment reason as she
reasons? Can people anticipate future destruction with such tran-
quillity, turning a deaf ear to warnings and forebodings? Does
she expect a miracle? It must be so.
And does not all this
seem like signs of mental derangement? "
To this idea he clung obstinately. Sonia mad! Such a pros-
pect displeased him less than the other ones. Once more he
examined the girl attentively.
« And you
you often pray to
God, Sonia? " he asked her.
No answer. Standing by her side, he waited for a reply.
"What could I be, what should I be without God? " cried she in
a low-toned but energetic voice, and whilst casting on Raskolni-
koff a rapid glance of her brilliant eyes, she gripped his hand.
"Come, I was not mistaken! " he muttered to himself. -"And
what does God do for you? " asked he, anxious to clear his
doubts yet more.
For a long time the girl remained silent, as if incapable of
reply. Emotion made her bosom heave. "Stay! Do not ques-
tion me! You have no such right! " exclaimed she, all of a sud-
den, with looks of anger.
"I expected as much! " was the man's thought.
"God does everything for me! " murmured the girl rapidly,
and her eyes sank.
"At last I have the explanation! " he finished mentally, whilst
eagerly looking at her.
He experienced a new, strange, almost unhealthy feeling on
watching this pale, thin, hard-featured face, these blue and soft
eyes which could yet dart such lights and give utterance to such
passion; in a word, this feeble frame, yet trembling with indig-
nation and anger, struck him as weird,-nay, almost fantastic.
"Mad! she must be mad! " he muttered once more. A book
was lying on the chest of drawers. Raskolnikoff had noticed it
more than once whilst moving about the room. He took it and
examined it. It was a Russian translation of the Gospels, a
well-thumbed leather-bound book.
VIII-301
## p. 4802 (#598) ###########################################
4802
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
"Where does that come from? " asked he of Sonia, from the
other end of the room.
The girl still held the same position, a pace or two from the
table. "It was lent me," replied Sonia, somewhat loth, without
looking at Raskolnikoff.
"Who lent it you? "
“Elizabeth —I asked her to! "
"Elizabeth. How strange! " he thought.
he thought. Everything with
Sonia assumed to his mind an increasingly extraordinary aspect.
He took the book to the light, and turned it over. "Where is
mention made of Lazarus? " asked he abruptly.
Sonia, looking hard on the ground, preserved silence, whilst
moving somewhat from the table.
"Where is mention made of the resurrection of Lazarus ?
Find me the passage, Sonia. "
The latter looked askance at her interlocutor. "That is not
the place it is the Fourth Gospel," said she dryly, without
moving from the spot.
"Find me the passage and read it out! " he repeated, and
sitting down again rested his elbow on the table, his head on
his hand, and glancing sideways with gloomy look, prepared to
listen.
――――――――
Sonia at first hesitated to draw nearer to the table. The
singular wish uttered by Raskolnikoff scarcely seemed sincere.
Nevertheless she took the book. "Have you ever read the pas-
sage? " she asked him, looking at him from out corners of
her eyes.
Her voice was getting harder and harder.
"Once upon a time. In my childhood. Read! "
"Have you never heard it in church? "
"I-I never go there. Do you go often yourself? »
"No," stammered Sonia.
Raskolnikoff smiled. "I understand, then, you won't go to-
morrow to your father's funeral service? "
"Oh, yes! I was at church last week. I was present at a
requiem mass. "
"Whose was that? >>
"Elizabeth's. She was assassinated by means of an axe. ”
Raskolnikoff's nervous system became more and more irritated.
He was getting giddy. "Were you friends with her? "
"Yes. She was straightforward. She used to come and see
She was not able. We used to read and
me but not often.
at.
She sees God. "
## p. 4803 (#599) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4803
Raskolnikoff became thoughtful. "What," asked he himself,
"could be the meaning of the mysterious interviews of two such
idiots as Sonia and Elizabeth? Why, I should go mad here
myself! " thought he. "Madness seems to be in the atmosphere
of the place! -Read! " he cried all of a sudden, irritably.
Sonia kept hesitating. Her heart beat loud. She seemed
afraid to read. He considered "this poor demented creature »
with an almost sad expression. "How can that interest you,
since you do not believe? " she muttered in a choking voice.
"Read! I insist upon it! Used you not to read to Eliza-
beth? »
Sonia opened the book and looked for the passage. Her hands
trembled. The words stuck in her throat. Twice did she try to
read without being able to utter the first syllable.
"Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany,"
she read, at last, with an effort; but suddenly, at the third word,
her voice grew wheezy, and gave way like an overstretched
chord. Breath was deficient in her oppressed bosom. Raskolni-
koff partly explained to himself Sonia's hesitation to obey him;
and in proportion as he understood her better, he insisted still
more imperiously on her reading. He felt what it must cost the
girl to lay bare to him, to some extent, her heart of hearts. She
evidently could not, without difficulty, make up her mind to con-
fide to a stranger the sentiments which probably since her teens
had been her support, her viaticum-when, what with a sottish
father and a stepmother demented by misfortune, to say nothing
of starving children, she heard nothing but reproach and offens-
ive clamor. He saw all this, but he likewise saw that notwith-
standing this repugnance, she was most anxious to read,—to read
to him, and that now,-let the consequences be what they may!
The girl's look, the agitation to which she was a prey, told him
as much, and by a violent effort over herself Sonia conquered
the spasm which parched her throat, and continued to read the
eleventh chapter of the Gospel according to St. John. She thus
reached the nineteenth verse:-
"And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort
them concerning their brother. Then Martha, as soon as she heard
that Jesus was coming, went and met him; but Mary sat still in the
house. Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died. But I know that even now, whatsoever
thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee. "
## p. 4804 (#600) ###########################################
4804
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOÉVSKY
Here she paused, to overcome the emotion which once more
caused her voice to tremble.
"Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. Martha saith
unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the
last day. Jesus said unto her, I am the Resurrection and the Life;
he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live;
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest
thou this? She saith unto him,”.
and although she had difficulty in breathing, Sonia raised her
voice, as if in reading the words of Martha she was making her
own confession of faith:—
"Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God,
which should come into the world. ”
She stopped, raised her eyes rapidly on him, but cast them
down on her book, and continued to read. Raskolnikoff listened
without stirring, without turning toward her, his elbows resting
on the table, looking aside. Thus the reading continued till the
thirty-second verse.
"Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she
fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died. When Jesus therefore saw her weeping,
and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the
spirit and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They
said unto him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the
Jews, Behold how he loved him. And some of them said, Could not
this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even
this man should not have died? "
Raskolnikoff turned towards her and looked at her with agita-
tion. His suspicion was a correct one. She was trembling in all
her limbs, a prey to fever. He had expected this. She was get-
ting to the miraculous story, and a feeling of triumph was taking
possession of her. Her voice, strengthened by joy, had a metal-
lic ring. The lines became misty to her troubled eyes, but for-
tunately she knew the passage by heart. At the last line,
"Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind-
she lowered her voice, emphasizing passionately the doubt, the
blame, the reproach of these unbelieving and blind Jews, who a
moment after fell as if struck by lightning on their knees, to
sob and to believe. "Yes," thought she, deeply affected by this
>>>
## p. 4805 (#601) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4805
joyful hope, "yes, he- he who is blind, who dares not believe-
he also will hear-will believe in an instant, immediately, now,
this very moment! »
"Jesus therefore, again groaning in himself, cometh to the grave.
It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it. Jesus said, Take ye away
the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him,
Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days. "
She strongly emphasized the word four.
"Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldst
believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God? Then they took away
the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted
up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me.
And I knew that thou hearest me always; but because of the people
which stand by I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent
me. And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice,
Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth,"-
(on reading these words Sonia shuddered, as if she herself had
been witness to the miracle)
"bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face was bound
about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him
go. Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and had seen the
things which Jesus did, believed on him. "
She read no more,- such a thing would have been impossible
to her, closed the book, and briskly rising, said in a low-toned
and choking voice, without turning toward the man she was
talking to, "So much for the resurrection of Lazarus. " She
seemed afraid to raise her eyes on Raskolnikoff, whilst her fever-
ish trembling continued. The dying piece of candle dimly lit up
this low-ceiled room, in which an assassin and a harlot had just
read the Book of books.
## p. 4806 (#602) ###########################################
4806
EDWARD DOWDEN
(1843-)
-
W
E ARE all hunters, skillful or skilless, in literature — hunters
for our spiritual good or for our pleasure," says Edward Dow-
den; and to his earnest research and careful exposition
many readers owe a more thorough appreciation of literature. He
was educated at Queen's College, Cork (his birthplace), and then at
Trinity College, Dublin, where he received the Vice-Chancellor's
prize in both English verse and English prose, and also the first
English Moderatorship in logic and ethics. For two years he studied
divinity. Then he obtained by examination a professorship of oratory
at the University of Dublin, where he was afterwards elected pro-
fessor of English literature. The scholarship of his literary work has
won him many honors. In 1888 he was chosen president of the Eng-
lish Goethe Society, to succeed Professor Müller. The following year
he was appointed first Taylorian lecturer in the Taylor Institute,
Oxford. The Royal Irish Academy has bestowed the Cunningham
gold medal upon him, and he has also received the honorary degree
LL. D. of the University of Edinburgh, and from Princeton Uni-
versity.
Very early in life Professor Dowden began to express his feeling
for literature, and the instinct which leads him to account for a work
by study of its author's personality. For more than twenty years
English readers have known him as a frequent contributor of critical
essays to the leading reviews. These have been collected into the
delightful volumes Studies in Literature and Transcripts and
Studies. ' His has been called "an honest method, wholesome as
sweet. " He would offer more than a mere résumé of what his author
expresses. He would be one of the interpreters and transmitters of
new forms of thought to the masses of readers who lack time or
ability to discover values for themselves. Very widely read himself,
he is fitted for just comparisons and comprehensive views. As has
been pointed out, he is fond of working from a general consideration
of a period with its formative influences, to the particular care of the
author with whom he is dealing. Saintsbury tells us that Mr. Dow-
den's procedure is to ask his author a series of questions which seem
to him of vital importance, and find out how he would answer them.
Dowden's style is careful, clear, and thorough, showing his schol-
arship and incisive thought. His form of expression is strongly
## p. 4807 (#603) ###########################################
EDWARD DOWDEN
4807
picturesque. It is nowhere more so than in 'Shakespeare: a Study
of His Mind and Art. ' This, his most noteworthy work, has been
very widely read and admired. His intimate acquaintance with Ger-
man criticism upon the great Elizabethan especially fitted him to
present fresh considerations to the public.
He has also written a brilliant 'Life of Shelley' (bitterly criticized
by Mark Twain in the North American Review, 'A Defense of Har-
riet Shelley), and a 'Life of Southey' in the English Men of
Letters Series; and edited most capably Southey's Correspondence
with Caroline Bowles,' The Correspondence of Sir Henry Taylor,'
< Shakespeare's Sonnets,' 'The Passionate Pilgrim,' and a collection
of Lyrical Ballads. '
THE HUMOR OF SHAKESPEARE
From Shakespeare: a Critical Study of His Mind and Art›
A
STUDY of Shakespeare which fails to take account of Shake-
speare's humor must remain essentially incomplete. The
character and spiritual history of a man who is endowed
with a capacity for humorous appreciation of the world must dif-
fer throughout, and in every particular, from that of the man
whose moral nature has never rippled over with genial laughter.
At whatever final issue Shakespeare arrived after long spiritual
travail as to the attainment of his life, that precise issue, rather
than another, was arrived at in part by virtue of the fact of
Shakespeare's humor. In the composition of forces which deter-
mined the orbit traversed by the mind of the poet, this must be
allowed for as a force among others, in importance not the least,
and efficient at all times even when little apparent.
A man
whose visage "holds one stern intent" from day to day, and
whose joy becomes at times almost a supernatural rapture, may
descend through circles of hell to the narrowest and the lowest;
he may mount from sphere to sphere of Paradise until he stands
within the light of the Divine Majesty; but he will hardly suc-
ceed in presenting us with an adequate image of life as it is on
this earth of ours, in its oceanic amplitude and variety.
few men of genius there have been, who with vision penetrative
as lightning have gazed as it were through life, at some eter-
nal significances of which life is the symbol. Intent upon its
sacred meaning, they have had no eye to note the forms of the
A
## p. 4808 (#604) ###########################################
4808
EDWARD DOWDEN
grotesque hieroglyph of human existence. Such men are not
framed for laughter. To this little group the creator of Falstaff,
of Bottom, and of Touchstone does not belong.
an uproar, snatched from her as many books as possible, stuffed
all his pockets with them, thrust them into his hat and wherever
he could, carried them about with him all the three days which
preceded the funeral, and did not even part with them when the
time came to go to the church. During all those days he was
like a man stunned, who has lost his memory, and he kept fuss-
ing about near the coffin with a certain strange anxiety; now he
adjusted the paper band upon the dead man's brow, now he lighted
and snuffed the candles. It was evident that he could not fix
his thoughts in orderly manner on anything. Neither my mother
nor Anna Feodorovna went to the funeral services in the church.
My mother was ill, but Anna Feodorovna quarreled with old
Pokrovsky just as she was all ready to start, and so stayed away.
The old man and I were the only persons present. A sort of
fear came over me during the services-like the presentiment
of something which was about to happen. I could hardly stand
out the ceremony in church. At last they put the lid on the
coffin and nailed it down, placed it on the cart and drove away.
I accompanied it only to the end of the street. The truckman
drove at a trot. The old man ran after the cart, weeping aloud;
the sound of his crying was broken and shaken by his running.
The poor man lost his hat and did not stop to pick it up. His
head was wet with the rain; the sleet lashed and cut his face.
The old man did not appear to feel the bad weather, but ran
weeping from one side of the cart to the other. The skirts of
his shabby old coat waved in the wind like wings.
Books pro-
truded from every one of his pockets; in his hands was a huge
book, which he held tightly clutched. The passers-by removed
their hats and made the sign of the cross. Some halted and
stared in amazement at the poor old man. Every moment the
books kept falling out of his pockets into the mud. People
stopped him, and pointed out his losses to him; he picked them
up, and set out again in pursuit of the coffin. At the corner of
the street an old beggar woman joined herself to him to escort
the coffin. At last the cart turned the corner, and disappeared
from my eyes.
I went home. I flung myself, in dreadful grief,
on my mother's bosom.
## p. 4795 (#591) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4795
LETTER FROM MAKAR DYEVUSHKIN TO VARVARA ALEXIEVNA DOBROS-
YELOFF
――――
My dear Varvara Alexievna!
I am quite beside myself as I write this. I am utterly upset
by a most terrible occurrence. My head is whirling. I feel as
though everything were turning in dizzy circles round about me.
Ah, my dearest, what a thing I have to tell you now! We had
not even a presentiment of such a thing. No, I don't believe
that I did not have a presentiment I foresaw it all. My heart
forewarned me of this whole thing! I even dreamed of some-
thing like it not long ago.
This is what has happened! I will relate it to you without
attempting fine style, and as the Lord shall put it into my soul.
I went to the office to-day. When I arrived, I sat down and
began to write. But you must know, my dear, that I wrote yes-
terday also. Well, yesterday Timofei Ivan'itch came to me, and
was pleased to give me a personal order. "Here's a document
that is much needed," says he, "and we're in a hurry for it.
Copy it, Makar Alexievitch," says he, "as quickly and as neatly
and carefully as possible: it must be handed in for signature to-
day. " I must explain to you, my angel, that I was not quite
myself yesterday, and didn't wish to look at anything; such sad-
ness and depression had fallen upon me! My heart was cold, my
mind was dark; you filled all my memory, and incessantly, my
poor darling. Well, so I set to work on the copy; I wrote clearly
and well, only, I don't know exactly how to describe it to you,
whether the Evil One himself tangled me up, or whether it was
decreed by some mysterious fate, or simply whether it was bound
to happen so, but I omitted a whole line, and the sense was utterly
ruined. The Lord only knows what sense there was-simply
none whatever. They were late with the papers yesterday, so
they only gave this document to his Excellency for signature this
morning. To-day I presented myself at the usual hour, as though
nothing at all were the matter, and set myself down alongside
Emelyan Ivanovitch.
―――
SEPTEMBER 9TH.
I must tell you, my dear, that lately I have become twice as
shamefaced as before, and more mortified. Of late I have ceased
to look at any one. As soon as any one's chair squeaks, I am
more dead than alive.
So to-day I crept in, slipped humbly into
## p. 4796 (#592) ###########################################
4796
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOÉVSKY
my seat, and sat there all doubled up, so that Efim Akimovitch
(he's the greatest tease in the world) remarked in such a way
that all could hear him, "Why do you sit so like a y-y-y, Makar
Alexievitch ? " Then he made such a grimace that everybody
round him and me split with laughter, and of course at my
expense. They kept it up interminably! I drooped my ears and
screwed up my eyes, and sat there motionless.
That's my way;
they stop the quicker. All at once I heard a noise, a running
and a tumult; I heard - did my ears deceive me? They were
calling for me, demanding me, summoning Dyevushkin. My
heart quivered in my breast, and I didn't know myself what I
feared, for nothing of the sort had ever happened to me in the
whole course of my life. I was rooted to my chair, as though
nothing had occurred, as though it were not I. But then they be-
gan again, nearer at hand, and nearer still. And here they were,
right in my very ear: "Dyevushkin! Dyevushkin! " they called;
"where's Dyevushkin? " I raise my eyes, and there before me
stands Evstafiy Ivanovitch; he says:-"Makar Alexievitch, hasten
to his Excellency as quickly as possible! You've made a nice
mess with that document! "
――
That was all he said, but it was enough, wasn't it, my dear,
- quite enough to say? I turned livid, and grew as cold as
ice, and lost my senses; I started, and I simply didn't know
whether I was alive or dead as I went. They led me through
one room, and through another room, and through a third room,
to the private office, and I presented myself! Positively, I can-
not give you any account of what I was thinking about.
I saw
his Excellency standing there, with all of them around him. It
appears that I did not make my salute; I forgot it completely.
I was so scared that my lips trembled and my legs shook. And
there was sufficient cause, my dear. In the first place, I was
ashamed of myself; I glanced to the right, at a mirror, and what
I beheld therein was enough to drive any man out of his senses.
And in the second place, I have always behaved as though there
were no place for me in the world. So that it is not likely that
his Excellency was even aware of my existence.
It is possible
that he may have heard it cursorily mentioned that there was a
person named Dyevushkin in the department, but he had never
come into any closer relations.
He began angrily, "What's the meaning of this, sir? What
are you staring at? Here's an important paper, needed in haste,
## p. 4797 (#593) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4797
and you go and spoil it. And how did you come to permit such
a thing? " Here his Excellency turned on Evstafiy Ivanovitch.
I only listen, and the sounds of the words reach me: "It's gross
carelessness. Heedlessness! You'll get yourself into trouble! "
I tried to open my mouth for some purpose or other. I seemed
to want to ask forgiveness, but I couldn't; to run away, but I
didn't dare to make the attempt: and then- then, my dearest,
something so dreadful happened that I can hardly hold my pen
even now for the shame of it. My button-deuce take it-my
button, which was hanging by a thread, suddenly broke loose,
jumped off, skipped along (evidently I had struck it by accident),
clattered and rolled away, the cursed thing, straight to his Excel-
lency's feet, and that in the midst of universal silence. And
that was the whole of my justification, all my excuse, all my
answer, everything which I was preparing to say to his Excel-
lency!
The results were terrible! His Excellency immediately di-
rected his attention to my figure and my costume. I remembered
what I had seen in the mirror; I flew to catch the button! A
fit of madness descended upon me! I bent down and tried to
grasp the button, but it rolled and twisted, and I couldn't get
hold of it, in short, and I also distinguished myself in the matter
of dexterity. Then I felt my last strength fail me, and knew
that all, all was lost! My whole reputation was lost, the whole
man ruined! And then, without rhyme or reason, Teresa and
Faldoni began to ring in both my ears. At last I succeeded in
seizing the button, rose upright, drew myself up in proper salute,
but like a fool, and stood calmly there with my hands lined
down on the seams of my trousers! No, I didn't, though. 1
began to try to fit the button on the broken thread, just as
though it would stick fast by that means; and moreover, I began
to smile and went on smiling.
At first his Excellency turned away; then he scrutinized me
again, and I heard him say to Evstafiy Ivanovitch:-"How's this?
See what a condition he is in! What a looking man! What's
the matter with him? " Ah, my own dearest, think of that—
"What a looking man! " and "What's the matter with him!
"He has distinguished himself! " I heard Evstafiy say; "he has
no bad marks, no bad marks on any score, and his conduct
is exemplary; his salary is adequate, in accordance with the
rates. " "Well then, give him some sort of assistance," says his
>>>
## p. 4798 (#594) ###########################################
4798
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
Excellency; "make him an advance on his salary. "-"But he has
had it, he has taken it already, for ever so long in advance.
Probably circumstances have compelled him to do so; but his
conduct is good, and he has received no reprimands, he has never
been rebuked. " My dear little angel, I turned hot and burned
as though in the fires of the bad place! I was on the point of
fainting. "Well," says his Excellency in a loud voice, “the doc-
ument must be copied again as quickly as possible; come here,
Dyevushkin, make a fresh copy without errors; and listen to
me;" here his Excellency turned to the others and gave them
divers orders, and sent them all away. As soon as they were
all gone, his Excellency hastily took out his pocket-book, and
from it drew a hundred-ruble bank-note. "Here," said he, "this
is all I can afford, and I am happy to help to that extent;
reckon it as you please, take it,”—and he thrust it into my hand.
I trembled, my angel, my whole soul was in a flutter; I didn't
know what was the matter with me; I tried to catch his hand
and kiss it. But he turned very red in the face, my darling,
and—I am not deviating from the truth by so much as a hair's-
breadth - he took my unworthy hand, and shook it, indeed he
did; he took it and shook it as though it were of equal rank
with his own, as though it belonged to a General like himself.
"Go," says he; "I am glad to do what I can. Make no mis-
takes, but now do it as well as you can. "
Now, my dear, this is what I have decided: I beg you and
Feodor and if I had children I would lay my commands upon
them to pray to God for him; though they should not pray for
their own father, that they should pray daily and forever, for his
Excellency! One thing more I will say, my dearest, and I say
it solemnly, heed me well, my dear, I swear that, no matter
in what degree I may be reduced to spiritual anguish in the
cruel days of our adversity, as I look on you and your poverty,
on myself, on my humiliation and incapacity,-in spite of all
this, I swear to you that the hundred rubles are not so precious
to me as the fact that his Excellency himself deigned to press
my unworthy hand, the hand of a straw, a drunkard! Thereby
he restored my self-respect. By that deed he brought to life
again my spirit, he made my existence sweeter forevermore, and
I am firmly convinced that, however sinful I may be in the
sight of the Almighty, yet my prayer for the happiness and
prosperity of his Excellency will reach his throne!
――――――
## p. 4799 (#595) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4799
My dearest, I am at present in the most terrible state of
spiritual prostration, in a horribly overwrought condition. My
heart beats as though it would burst out of my breast, and I
seem to be weak all over. I send you forty-five rubles, paper
money. I shall give twenty rubles to my landlady, and keep
thirty-five for myself; with twenty I will get proper clothes, and
the other fifteen will go for my living expenses. But just now
all the impressions of this morning have shaken my whole being
to the foundations. I am going to lie down for a bit. Never-
theless, I am calm, perfectly calm. Only, my soul aches, and
down there, in the depths, my soul is trembling and throbbing
and quivering. I shall go to see you; but just now I am simply
intoxicated with all these emotions. God sees all, my dearest,
my own darling, my precious one.
Your worthy friend,
MAKAR DYEVUSHKIN.
Translation of Isabel F. Hapgood.
THE BIBLE READING
From Crime and Punishment'
R
ASKOLNIKOFF Went straight to the water-side, where Sonia was
living. The three-storied house was an old building, painted
green.
The young man had some difficulty in finding the
ornik, and got from him vague information about the quarters
of the tailor Kapernasumoff. After having discovered in a corner
of the yard the foot of a steep and gloomy staircase, he ascended
to the second floor, and followed the gallery facing the court-yard.
Whilst groping in the dark, and asking himself how Kapernas-
umoff's lodgings could be reached, a door opened close to him;
he seized it mechanically.
"Who is there? " asked a timid female voice.
"It is I. I am coming to see you," replied Raskolnikoff, on
entering a small ante-room. There on a wretched table stood a
candle, fixed in a candlestick of twisted metal.
"Is that you? Good heavens! " feebly replied Sonia, who
seemed not to have strength enough to move from the spot.
"Where do you live? Is it here? " And Raskolnikoff passed
quickly into the room, trying not to look the girl in the face.
## p. 4800 (#596) ###########################################
4800
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
A moment afterwards Sonia rejoined him with the candle, and
remained stock still before him, a prey to an indescribable agita-
tion. This unexpected visit had upset her-nay, even frightened
her. All of a sudden her pale face colored up, and tears came
into her eyes.
She experienced extreme confusion, united with a
certain gentle feeling. Raskolnikoff turned aside with a rapid
movement and sat down on a chair, close to the table. In the
twinkling of an eye he took stock of everything in the room.
This room was large, with a very low ceiling, and was the
only one let out by the Kapernasumoffs; in the wall, on the left-
hand side, was a door giving access to theirs. On the opposite
side, in the wall on the right, there was another door, which was
always locked. That was another lodging, having another num-
ber. Sonia's room was more like an out-house, of irregular rec-
tangular shape, which gave it an uncommon character. The wall,
with its three windows facing the canal, cut it obliquely, forming
thus an extremely acute angle, in the back portion of which noth-
ing could be seen, considering the feeble light of the candle.
On the other hand, the other angle was an extremely obtuse one.
This large room contained scarcely any furniture. In the right-
hand corner was the bed; between the bed and the door, a chair;
on the same side, facing the door of the next set, stood a deal
table, covered with a blue cloth; close to the table were two rush
chairs. Against the opposite wall, near the acute angle, was
placed a small chest of drawers of unvarnished wood, which
seemed out of place in this vacant spot. This was the whole of
the furniture. The yellowish and worn paper had everywhere
assumed a darkish color, probably the effect of the damp and
coal smoke. Everything in the place denoted poverty. Even the
bed had no curtains. Sonia silently considered the visitor, who
examined her room so attentively and so unceremoniously.
"Her lot is fixed," thought he,-"a watery grave, the mad-
house, or a brutish existence! " This latter contingency was
especially repellent to him, but skeptic as he was, he could not
help believing it a possibility. "Is it possible that such is really
the case? " he asked himself. "Is it possible that this creature,
who still retains a pure mind, should end by becoming deliber-
ately mire-like ? Has she not already become familiar with it,
and if up to the present she has been able to bear with such a
## p. 4801 (#597) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4801
life, has it not been so because vice has already lost its hideous-
ness in her eyes? Impossible again! " cried he, on his part, in
the same way as Sonia had cried a moment ago. "No, that
which up to the present has prevented her from throwing her-
self into the canal has been the fear of sin and its punishment.
May she not be mad after all? Who says she is not so? Is
she in full possession of all her faculties? Is it possible to
speak as she does? Do people of sound judgment reason as she
reasons? Can people anticipate future destruction with such tran-
quillity, turning a deaf ear to warnings and forebodings? Does
she expect a miracle? It must be so.
And does not all this
seem like signs of mental derangement? "
To this idea he clung obstinately. Sonia mad! Such a pros-
pect displeased him less than the other ones. Once more he
examined the girl attentively.
« And you
you often pray to
God, Sonia? " he asked her.
No answer. Standing by her side, he waited for a reply.
"What could I be, what should I be without God? " cried she in
a low-toned but energetic voice, and whilst casting on Raskolni-
koff a rapid glance of her brilliant eyes, she gripped his hand.
"Come, I was not mistaken! " he muttered to himself. -"And
what does God do for you? " asked he, anxious to clear his
doubts yet more.
For a long time the girl remained silent, as if incapable of
reply. Emotion made her bosom heave. "Stay! Do not ques-
tion me! You have no such right! " exclaimed she, all of a sud-
den, with looks of anger.
"I expected as much! " was the man's thought.
"God does everything for me! " murmured the girl rapidly,
and her eyes sank.
"At last I have the explanation! " he finished mentally, whilst
eagerly looking at her.
He experienced a new, strange, almost unhealthy feeling on
watching this pale, thin, hard-featured face, these blue and soft
eyes which could yet dart such lights and give utterance to such
passion; in a word, this feeble frame, yet trembling with indig-
nation and anger, struck him as weird,-nay, almost fantastic.
"Mad! she must be mad! " he muttered once more. A book
was lying on the chest of drawers. Raskolnikoff had noticed it
more than once whilst moving about the room. He took it and
examined it. It was a Russian translation of the Gospels, a
well-thumbed leather-bound book.
VIII-301
## p. 4802 (#598) ###########################################
4802
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
"Where does that come from? " asked he of Sonia, from the
other end of the room.
The girl still held the same position, a pace or two from the
table. "It was lent me," replied Sonia, somewhat loth, without
looking at Raskolnikoff.
"Who lent it you? "
“Elizabeth —I asked her to! "
"Elizabeth. How strange! " he thought.
he thought. Everything with
Sonia assumed to his mind an increasingly extraordinary aspect.
He took the book to the light, and turned it over. "Where is
mention made of Lazarus? " asked he abruptly.
Sonia, looking hard on the ground, preserved silence, whilst
moving somewhat from the table.
"Where is mention made of the resurrection of Lazarus ?
Find me the passage, Sonia. "
The latter looked askance at her interlocutor. "That is not
the place it is the Fourth Gospel," said she dryly, without
moving from the spot.
"Find me the passage and read it out! " he repeated, and
sitting down again rested his elbow on the table, his head on
his hand, and glancing sideways with gloomy look, prepared to
listen.
――――――――
Sonia at first hesitated to draw nearer to the table. The
singular wish uttered by Raskolnikoff scarcely seemed sincere.
Nevertheless she took the book. "Have you ever read the pas-
sage? " she asked him, looking at him from out corners of
her eyes.
Her voice was getting harder and harder.
"Once upon a time. In my childhood. Read! "
"Have you never heard it in church? "
"I-I never go there. Do you go often yourself? »
"No," stammered Sonia.
Raskolnikoff smiled. "I understand, then, you won't go to-
morrow to your father's funeral service? "
"Oh, yes! I was at church last week. I was present at a
requiem mass. "
"Whose was that? >>
"Elizabeth's. She was assassinated by means of an axe. ”
Raskolnikoff's nervous system became more and more irritated.
He was getting giddy. "Were you friends with her? "
"Yes. She was straightforward. She used to come and see
She was not able. We used to read and
me but not often.
at.
She sees God. "
## p. 4803 (#599) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4803
Raskolnikoff became thoughtful. "What," asked he himself,
"could be the meaning of the mysterious interviews of two such
idiots as Sonia and Elizabeth? Why, I should go mad here
myself! " thought he. "Madness seems to be in the atmosphere
of the place! -Read! " he cried all of a sudden, irritably.
Sonia kept hesitating. Her heart beat loud. She seemed
afraid to read. He considered "this poor demented creature »
with an almost sad expression. "How can that interest you,
since you do not believe? " she muttered in a choking voice.
"Read! I insist upon it! Used you not to read to Eliza-
beth? »
Sonia opened the book and looked for the passage. Her hands
trembled. The words stuck in her throat. Twice did she try to
read without being able to utter the first syllable.
"Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany,"
she read, at last, with an effort; but suddenly, at the third word,
her voice grew wheezy, and gave way like an overstretched
chord. Breath was deficient in her oppressed bosom. Raskolni-
koff partly explained to himself Sonia's hesitation to obey him;
and in proportion as he understood her better, he insisted still
more imperiously on her reading. He felt what it must cost the
girl to lay bare to him, to some extent, her heart of hearts. She
evidently could not, without difficulty, make up her mind to con-
fide to a stranger the sentiments which probably since her teens
had been her support, her viaticum-when, what with a sottish
father and a stepmother demented by misfortune, to say nothing
of starving children, she heard nothing but reproach and offens-
ive clamor. He saw all this, but he likewise saw that notwith-
standing this repugnance, she was most anxious to read,—to read
to him, and that now,-let the consequences be what they may!
The girl's look, the agitation to which she was a prey, told him
as much, and by a violent effort over herself Sonia conquered
the spasm which parched her throat, and continued to read the
eleventh chapter of the Gospel according to St. John. She thus
reached the nineteenth verse:-
"And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary, to comfort
them concerning their brother. Then Martha, as soon as she heard
that Jesus was coming, went and met him; but Mary sat still in the
house. Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died. But I know that even now, whatsoever
thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee. "
## p. 4804 (#600) ###########################################
4804
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOÉVSKY
Here she paused, to overcome the emotion which once more
caused her voice to tremble.
"Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. Martha saith
unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the
last day. Jesus said unto her, I am the Resurrection and the Life;
he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live;
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest
thou this? She saith unto him,”.
and although she had difficulty in breathing, Sonia raised her
voice, as if in reading the words of Martha she was making her
own confession of faith:—
"Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God,
which should come into the world. ”
She stopped, raised her eyes rapidly on him, but cast them
down on her book, and continued to read. Raskolnikoff listened
without stirring, without turning toward her, his elbows resting
on the table, looking aside. Thus the reading continued till the
thirty-second verse.
"Then when Mary was come where Jesus was, and saw him, she
fell down at his feet, saying unto him, Lord, if thou hadst been here,
my brother had not died. When Jesus therefore saw her weeping,
and the Jews also weeping which came with her, he groaned in the
spirit and was troubled, and said, Where have ye laid him? They
said unto him, Lord, come and see. Jesus wept. Then said the
Jews, Behold how he loved him. And some of them said, Could not
this man, which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even
this man should not have died? "
Raskolnikoff turned towards her and looked at her with agita-
tion. His suspicion was a correct one. She was trembling in all
her limbs, a prey to fever. He had expected this. She was get-
ting to the miraculous story, and a feeling of triumph was taking
possession of her. Her voice, strengthened by joy, had a metal-
lic ring. The lines became misty to her troubled eyes, but for-
tunately she knew the passage by heart. At the last line,
"Could not this man, which opened the eyes of the blind-
she lowered her voice, emphasizing passionately the doubt, the
blame, the reproach of these unbelieving and blind Jews, who a
moment after fell as if struck by lightning on their knees, to
sob and to believe. "Yes," thought she, deeply affected by this
>>>
## p. 4805 (#601) ###########################################
FEODOR MIKHAILOVITCH DOSTOEVSKY
4805
joyful hope, "yes, he- he who is blind, who dares not believe-
he also will hear-will believe in an instant, immediately, now,
this very moment! »
"Jesus therefore, again groaning in himself, cometh to the grave.
It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it. Jesus said, Take ye away
the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him,
Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days. "
She strongly emphasized the word four.
"Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that if thou wouldst
believe, thou shouldst see the glory of God? Then they took away
the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted
up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me.
And I knew that thou hearest me always; but because of the people
which stand by I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent
me. And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice,
Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth,"-
(on reading these words Sonia shuddered, as if she herself had
been witness to the miracle)
"bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face was bound
about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and let him
go. Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and had seen the
things which Jesus did, believed on him. "
She read no more,- such a thing would have been impossible
to her, closed the book, and briskly rising, said in a low-toned
and choking voice, without turning toward the man she was
talking to, "So much for the resurrection of Lazarus. " She
seemed afraid to raise her eyes on Raskolnikoff, whilst her fever-
ish trembling continued. The dying piece of candle dimly lit up
this low-ceiled room, in which an assassin and a harlot had just
read the Book of books.
## p. 4806 (#602) ###########################################
4806
EDWARD DOWDEN
(1843-)
-
W
E ARE all hunters, skillful or skilless, in literature — hunters
for our spiritual good or for our pleasure," says Edward Dow-
den; and to his earnest research and careful exposition
many readers owe a more thorough appreciation of literature. He
was educated at Queen's College, Cork (his birthplace), and then at
Trinity College, Dublin, where he received the Vice-Chancellor's
prize in both English verse and English prose, and also the first
English Moderatorship in logic and ethics. For two years he studied
divinity. Then he obtained by examination a professorship of oratory
at the University of Dublin, where he was afterwards elected pro-
fessor of English literature. The scholarship of his literary work has
won him many honors. In 1888 he was chosen president of the Eng-
lish Goethe Society, to succeed Professor Müller. The following year
he was appointed first Taylorian lecturer in the Taylor Institute,
Oxford. The Royal Irish Academy has bestowed the Cunningham
gold medal upon him, and he has also received the honorary degree
LL. D. of the University of Edinburgh, and from Princeton Uni-
versity.
Very early in life Professor Dowden began to express his feeling
for literature, and the instinct which leads him to account for a work
by study of its author's personality. For more than twenty years
English readers have known him as a frequent contributor of critical
essays to the leading reviews. These have been collected into the
delightful volumes Studies in Literature and Transcripts and
Studies. ' His has been called "an honest method, wholesome as
sweet. " He would offer more than a mere résumé of what his author
expresses. He would be one of the interpreters and transmitters of
new forms of thought to the masses of readers who lack time or
ability to discover values for themselves. Very widely read himself,
he is fitted for just comparisons and comprehensive views. As has
been pointed out, he is fond of working from a general consideration
of a period with its formative influences, to the particular care of the
author with whom he is dealing. Saintsbury tells us that Mr. Dow-
den's procedure is to ask his author a series of questions which seem
to him of vital importance, and find out how he would answer them.
Dowden's style is careful, clear, and thorough, showing his schol-
arship and incisive thought. His form of expression is strongly
## p. 4807 (#603) ###########################################
EDWARD DOWDEN
4807
picturesque. It is nowhere more so than in 'Shakespeare: a Study
of His Mind and Art. ' This, his most noteworthy work, has been
very widely read and admired. His intimate acquaintance with Ger-
man criticism upon the great Elizabethan especially fitted him to
present fresh considerations to the public.
He has also written a brilliant 'Life of Shelley' (bitterly criticized
by Mark Twain in the North American Review, 'A Defense of Har-
riet Shelley), and a 'Life of Southey' in the English Men of
Letters Series; and edited most capably Southey's Correspondence
with Caroline Bowles,' The Correspondence of Sir Henry Taylor,'
< Shakespeare's Sonnets,' 'The Passionate Pilgrim,' and a collection
of Lyrical Ballads. '
THE HUMOR OF SHAKESPEARE
From Shakespeare: a Critical Study of His Mind and Art›
A
STUDY of Shakespeare which fails to take account of Shake-
speare's humor must remain essentially incomplete. The
character and spiritual history of a man who is endowed
with a capacity for humorous appreciation of the world must dif-
fer throughout, and in every particular, from that of the man
whose moral nature has never rippled over with genial laughter.
At whatever final issue Shakespeare arrived after long spiritual
travail as to the attainment of his life, that precise issue, rather
than another, was arrived at in part by virtue of the fact of
Shakespeare's humor. In the composition of forces which deter-
mined the orbit traversed by the mind of the poet, this must be
allowed for as a force among others, in importance not the least,
and efficient at all times even when little apparent.
A man
whose visage "holds one stern intent" from day to day, and
whose joy becomes at times almost a supernatural rapture, may
descend through circles of hell to the narrowest and the lowest;
he may mount from sphere to sphere of Paradise until he stands
within the light of the Divine Majesty; but he will hardly suc-
ceed in presenting us with an adequate image of life as it is on
this earth of ours, in its oceanic amplitude and variety.
few men of genius there have been, who with vision penetrative
as lightning have gazed as it were through life, at some eter-
nal significances of which life is the symbol. Intent upon its
sacred meaning, they have had no eye to note the forms of the
A
## p. 4808 (#604) ###########################################
4808
EDWARD DOWDEN
grotesque hieroglyph of human existence. Such men are not
framed for laughter. To this little group the creator of Falstaff,
of Bottom, and of Touchstone does not belong.
